Hey, do you remember back in the depths of summer of last year – July, to be precise – when I wrote about the 1970s Euro Porn stylings present in the German movie Lehrmädchen-Report? And do you remember what I said back then?
This is potentially the first of a series of style showcases and mini reviews of 1970s European soft porn movies.
Well, brace yourself for a review of another movie only this time it’s not really softcore porn, it’s from the sixties, it’s not European, and I’m not concentrating on the style! I know! Never let it be said I don’t know how to disappoint people in a myriad of ways!
Desnuda en la Arena
YouTube in its infinite wisdom (or finite algorithmic calculations) recommended a user’s channel to me based on my predilection for watching Cheesy Crud From Yesteryear (not an actual genre on YouTube but by gum it should be!) That led me to somewhere which led me to somewhere else which led me to spotting this particular movie listed down the right side of the screen: Desnuda En La Arena 1969 – Isabel Sarli.
I didn’t know any Italian but I thought I could work out what this said: Des, nude in the arena. It turned out that the words were Spanish and not Italian though but as luck would have it I didn’t know any Spanish either yet still thought I could work out what this said: Des, nude in the arena. The question was: which Des? Lynam or O’Connor? You’ll be pleased to know the answer was neither and that this particular post isn’t going to get super weird and feature either of these fine stalwarts of British television entertainment stripped naked and fighting lions in front of a bloodthirsty and sexually aroused crowd. And if there’s no fan fiction describing precisely that scenario then I’ll be very disappointed with the internet. Very disappointed indeed.
So, it’s not Des and he’s not naked. What is it then? Well, the plot according to Wikipedia is:
The well known star of erotic movies, Isabel Sarli, plays Alicia a single mother who moves to Panama and starts working as a stripper deceiving men and making them the victims of her extortions.
Pretty straightforward. I’d not heard of Isabel Sarli before but the retired actress is described as “a cultural icon”, a “sex symbol”, and, most importantly, John Waters really likes her.
With gushing praise like that it would be impossible to not love this film, so let’s get on and start loving the film.
The film opens on a beach, panning over some discarded bikini clothing towards the nude form of the star of our movie herself.
Beneath the opening credits she’s writhing slightly. The sand’s probably getting everywhere and I think you know the everywhere I’m talking about. We can also instantly tell a couple of things about the film and its location: concern about bikini-stealing was low in this area during this period; erotic boob-rubbing was absolutely fine so long as you kept your leg nearest the camera raised to obscure any nether regions naughtiness.
After a newspaper overlay tells us about blood routes and murders and three shocks (thanks internet translation services!) we cut to Isabel – now fully clothed – praying in a hospital chapel. The doctor tells her that whoever she was praying for has died. Is it possible that there is no supreme deity capable of listening to inner thoughts and bestowing miraculous powers of recovery on the deceased? Or is the movie indicating that Isabel’s prayers just weren’t sincere enough? I’ve no idea. From there we hit what appears to be the solicitor’s office (lovely wood panels, by the way) and the happy-to-see-her solicitor who hands her a cheque for (I’m guessing) her husband’s life insurance.
Look how gorgeous Isabel is! Notice too the personal touch you only get from oddly happy Argentinian solicitors. That’s some quality inappropriate touching that’s sadly lacking in today’s legal profession.
After a brief chat with her mum or mother-in-law or old woman provided for grieving purposes under Argentinian law (it’s not an area of law I’m entirely familar with to be honest) Isabel heads into the city, buys a newspaper, has a coffee, and starts looking at employment opportunities. Clearly, despite my lack of comprehension of Spanish, the life insurance policy wasn’t that great, Isabel really had been upset at her husband’s death (maybe he was one of the shocking murders on the blood routes? Whatever. At least we now know that God doesn’t exist then), and now she needs to make some cash. Less clearly, we’re not really sure why she was naked and playing with her breasts on the beach at the start of the film but we’re prepared to overlook that confusing element and cross our fingers it happens again.
Secretarial jobs then follow one after another. Every one involves working for older men who try some form of lechery or sexual assault on the widow.
It was a different time, of course; a more rapey time. What is great to see, though, is Isabel not succumbing to the attacks, to see her fighting back, and to also see her persevering with the demeaning work in order to support her son, his ridiculous hair, and the pet poodle. Poodles were all the rage back then. If anyone ever asks you to name the two things that South America in 1969 was famous for then you can answer with some conviction it was attempted rape of secretaries and owning poodles. Nowadays hardly anyone owns poodles.
Isabel then has a coffee shop meeting with a friend or brothel madame or regional Lucille Ball fanclub president…
…and the upshot of that is that Isabel decides to fly to Panama leaving her wheelchair-bound son (as if the bowl cut hair wasn’t enough of a disability for the poor little thing!) behind. Perhaps he was injured on a shocking blood route! We may never know unless we learn Spanish quickly. Anyway, that explains some of the need for money. Panama must be where all the money is, and if you’re flying to Panama then you need to fly on a…
Pan Am Airplane! Do you see what I did there? I’m wasted on you.
One quick wardrobe change on the airplane and Isabel is soon in Panama and arriving at her hotel with her new persona in place and her plan to get money underway which may or may not have been explained in the coffee shop in Spanish earlier in the film.
Can we just take a moment to look at the stylishness present. I know I said I wasn’t going to feature the style of this movie in the review but I did also say I’m good at disappointing people so I’m just going to go ahead and do it again. As John Waters said there’s more than a hint of Elizabeth Taylor in Isabel Sarli. I’m pretty sure – and I can’t be bothered to check – that Taylor was never directed by Russ Meyer but you can take a look at this film and easily imagine it if you’re so inclined.
A swim in the hotel pool attracts the attention of men – women, wet and in bikinis have a way of doing that – and later Isabel pops along to the hotel’s casino to lose some money quickly. This too attracts the attention of men because rescuing beautiful women with only the merest chance of sexy rewards or, failing that, sexy assault in lieu of sexy rewards is something that appeals to Panamanians of this period. Anyway, a bearded gambler who wins big (luckily, or this film would have gone off on a weird tangent) proclaims that Isabel brought him luck and she should share some of his winnings. That’s not all he wants to share with her if you know what I mean. If you don’t know what I mean then I mean bodily fluids. But you really should have known what I meant.
Bodily fluids are not shared but Isabel does treat our winning gambler to her best Bugs Bunny impression. Or that’s an unfortunate frame of the movie to choose. Yeah, probably the latter. What actually happens is that they spend the evening dancing to some of the music that accompanies the whole film and which slowly drives you mad during the course of it, then the next day they go shopping for Chinese stuff. Is that a first date thing in Central America?
“Would you like to go out with me?”
“Sure! Where shall we go?”
“There’s a little place I know that sells the most adorable cat statues with arms that rock back and forth!”
“I love you Jorge!”
Now this is more like it! A visit to historical ruins is a perfect first date in my opinion. Not only do you get to learn things – and learning is good, people – but you also get to try out wonderful innuendo such as “How do you feel about old, crumbling erections?”
At this point Isabel and Señor Beard (that may not be his name) travel to a secluded island and the opening sequence of the film plays out again to much mental applause featuring the beach, discarded bikini, nudity, boob rubbage, and carefully placed thigh to obscure potential mind explosion at the sight of a pubic hair. Also present this time is the aforementioned Señor Beard who stares at his naked companion from the vantage point of the nearby treeline and somehow manages not to play with himself.
Now, the next thing that happens will both please you and disappoint you. No, that’s not (just) the line I use before commencing the act of love but… Full frontal nudity takes place! I know! Remember me saying how there was no “nether regions naughtiness” or “potential mind explosion at the sight of a pubic hair” (that latter phrase being used but one paragraph ago!)? Well forget all that because Isabel stands up, shows everything, goes for a run into the sea, and has a swim. In case you can’t watch the film and skip to the 27th minute to see for yourself I can confirm that she’s a natural brunette.
Knowing what’s then about to happen Isabel emerges from the sea and rolls about still wet on the beach waiting for Señor Beard to molest her. She knows – and I’d have probably known too if I could speak Spanish and realised what he was saying on their date while buying a parrot (yeah, that happened too) – that he, like all men, harbours a fantasy to have sex with something that kinda feels like sandpaper. And so they do. Possibly. She certainly seems to be wearing her post-coital bikini when we next see the pair of them swimming and talking. Now, I don’t speak the language but I can pick up some words – and I’ve read the plot on Wikipedia if you remember – so it soon becomes clear that our bearded gambler likes some of Isabel’s moves and proposes a business plan where she will strip for rich, idiot businessmen and earn a million dollars through generous tips (unlikely) or great reviews on TripAdvisor (even more unlikely) or some nefarious scheme (almost certainly).
Sample rich, idiot businessmen for your viewing pleasure. That’s almost definitely Martin Landau in the middle and Orson Welles on the right.
Another rich, idiot businessman shared just because I like the look his wife or previously-assaulted secretary gives him.
One of the businessmen makes her an offer she can’t refuse and she plays along, becoming his sexy plaything, swimming in his pool, accepting his gift of flowers, dousing herself with his gift of perfume. As we can also see from the picture and the presence of the two lion dog statues they’ve obeyed local customs and already taken a trip to the nearest Chinese supermarket. They dance to the tune of Guantanamera, they roll about, they cavort, and then they’re caught in the act of Christ only knows what by Señor Beard armed with a camera.
Blackmail! So that’s their fiendish game!
There then follows a montage of sexual entrapments (without any sex), including one or two that indicate our pair of criminals are equal opportunists with El Beardo (I’ve changed his name) also trying his hand at seduction with some of the elderly women in the hotel.
In the main, though, it’s Isabel who gets the men and El Beardo who takes the photos they’re strangely not that proud of.
When I get to his age I’ll be pretty proud of that.
As Isabel gets the dirty money she makes sure to send some back to her son and whoever that woman was who was looking after him. Now, you may be wondering at this point “Oh yeah! I got so caught up thinking how nice it was that Isabel found a career with good prospects that I completely forgot all about her weird-haired, crippled child!” because I know I wasn’t. The answer is soon forthcoming:
He can walk! And he’s been cloned! And it’s all thanks to the St Damien’s Omen Cloning School For Scary Kids back down Buenos Aires way. Not only has her son been healed and replicated he’s also getting to read graphic details of what his mother’s been up to thanks to the diary entries she forwards to him for safekeeping if I had to guess. Which I do.
More trysts take place and then we hit a part of the movie where a woman hands a gun to El Beardo, he then hands the gun to Isabel, then she heads off with a businessman to view the Panama Canal for several minutes which is possibly a tourism-based requirement of getting a filming visa in Panama in the first place.
Just when you think it’s all getting a bit confusing and become convinced El Beardo is about to embark on a first date with some new Panamanian woman (there’s a Chinese place behind him, you see; I’ve been dragging that theme along for a while and I didn’t want you to miss it) we realise he’s been waiting for Isabel and The Canal Hombre (I’m not very good at coming up with names for men in Spanish-speaking movies) to pass by so he can tail them. Are we going to get treated to a chase scene with exciting chase music?
No. The same, incessant music accompanies what can best be described as a moment of following. This then, however, leads to an altercation by the roadside. Boys will be boys. The Canal Hombre leaves while Isabel and El Beardo argue indicating it’s not all been an act I didn’t understand because of the language barrier but instead the result, maybe, of jealousy; Canal Hombre was, after all, younger and less sweaty than Isabel’s previous marks.
Isabel goes to leave but El Beardo grabs her and quite possibly shouts an apology into her ear. They then have sex in the front of the car despite her protestations. It’s a sweet and touching moment in their relationship. And you thought all the rapey bits were back in Argentina! You silly person. We suspect at this point that the film is well into its final act and if we don’t suspect that then we look at the little red progress bar at the bottom of the YouTube video and see there’s not much left of the film so that gives us the same information.
Proving she’s still got that fighting spirit from back when she was a boss-slapping secretary Isabel goes straight to Canal Hombre who it turns out might have some connection to the police or work for the police or maybe share an office with the police. The important thing here is that the police are involved. Look!
That’s a lovely police office with great police walls and police decorations and a picture of Mr July from the Panama Police calendar and police telephones and police radios too. Police today would kill for an office that good. Even better is the police officer himself who through the way he stands, the way he points, the way he talks, and the way he can’t keep from glancing at the film camera tells you he’s not an actor, he’s the real thing! That just lends some great authenticity to the movie.
The police read something out which quite possibly tells Isabel that her former partner-in-actual-crime and recent rapist El Beardo is actually a bad guy. Who knew?! Then they follow her to him as she maybe tries to break up with the bearded bastard. Waiting until El Beardo escapes they then shoot their way into the room in which Isabel just said her goodbyes. This seems an extraordinarily dangerous thing for the police to do but there’s worse to come as you can see below:
Now, I’m no locksmith. And I’ve never held a gun. But even I can see that this is not the correct shooting pattern for unlocking a door. Quite frankly, I’m appalled at this. Unless there’s some form of Heath Robinson locking mechanism built into the door structures of Panamanian waterfront properties it seems that this particular spread of bullets is extremely unlikely to have much effect on the teeth or barrel of the lock holding the thing in place. Alternatively, if Oscar Pistorius had recently watched the Isabel Sarli movie Desnuda en la Arena and found himself in desperate need of a pee in the middle of the night this one scene might have provided a cracking alibi for trying to force open the door to his bathroom.
There’s a gunfight which only seems to last an hour and spend a quarter of a million rounds of ammunition before the police finally get their man. El Beardo is El Deado. I can tell you’re impressed by my improving grasp of the Spanish language. The local people gather around the latest beach corpse within seconds of the gunfight ending – they’re probably starved for entertainment most of the time – and the film rapidly heads towards its conclusion; a farewell to El Deado in the cemetery, a farewell to Canal Hombre at the Pan Am check-in desk, tickets for Isabel and her parrot (no loose ends in this film), and a final visit to the St Damien’s Omen Cloning School For Scary Kids to pick up either her son or his doppelganger.
This film had everything you could want in a film:
- Strong, independent role for Isabel Sarli in an era when such things weren’t common and in a place where machismo ruled.
- Sexual assaults that were punished.
- A fat guy dancing to Guantanamera.
- Uncredited appearance from Martin Landau or Orson Welles or both or neither.
- A soundtrack that was banned as torture just one year later in 1970.
- A nude lady. Everyone loves a nude lady.
I didn’t understand much but I liked it a lot.
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